AP Bio
by dreamsteampunk
Summary: In a small high school in the US, an AP Bio class runs for the very first time. Seven students are the only ones who sign up. This is their year. (Young Avengers HS!AU)


_"Oh, summer has clothed the earth_

_In a cloak from the loom of the sun!"_

\- "In Summer," Paul Laurence Dunbar

* * *

In the trunk of the car was America's entire life.

Well, in two U-Haul trucks, spread across the backseat, and in the trunk of the car was America's entire life.

Plucked out of their old apartment and carelessly tossed into boxes were every childhood stuffed toy, themed mug, display-only dishware, gymnastics-issue scrunchie or headband, toothbrush, hairbrush, paintbrush, makeup brush, perpetually threadbare throw blanket, scented candle, SHARPIE brand highlighter, important piece of paper, fluffy towel, ratty towel, hand towel, dish towel, 80's scifi series, tablemat, DVD, CD, sewing kit, dusty knick-knack, dusted knick-knack, free T-shirt, pillowcase and bedsheet set, and set of costume jewelry that their family had ever owned.

It was a lot of boxes.

America sighed, leaned her forehead against the window, and waited for the teenage angst to come. It was kind of like baking. She had all the ingredients; torn away from all her friends at the end of her junior year, consigned from a busy, big city to a boring, small town, and forced to start thinking about college on top of all of that. Now she just had to mix them all together, put them in the oven, and wait for the pie to come out. Probably shit pie, like that one from _The Help_. That would really set the tone for the kind of mood America felt she had to be in.

But really, she just… didn't care that much. She liked her friends well enough, but it's the information age: how homesick can she get with live Instagram updates from her friends back there? Plus, all of them, with the exception of maybe Nick, were "placeholder" friends. They were there, and she liked them in the moment, but almost anyone she didn't find awful could have been in their place if she just spent enough time with them. She was sad, sure, but at the risk of sounding cold, it was maybe more because she had just spent so much time and effort on those relationships that she was a little annoyed she had to start over.

Maybe she was a bad friend.

As for the change in locale, maybe America would care more about leaving Utopian Parallel if Utopian Parallel hadn't been so boring. It had to be the boringest big city in America, narrowly beating out Cincinnati and Cleveland for the title. UP was the perfect middle ground between so big that it got weird after 9 PM on a Friday, like LA or New York, or so small that people in the neighborhoods knew each other well enough to have good, interesting gossip. Not even the barbers or stylists in UP knew the dirt on anyone, _that's_ how boring of a place it was. It also didn't have its niche, like New Orleans with their music and food, or San Francisco with whatever it was programmers like to do in their free time. Singapore levels of clean, though, America could give them that. God, even UP's _thing_ had been boring.

Somewhere in her midbrain, America registered that one of her moms had taken the exit off the highway, switching the view from the monotonous tree-and-dehydrated-grass scenery that had dominated the last three hours of her life to a new view. The exit brought them straight onto a street with only two lanes - possibly the widest Arcadia's roads ever got. On one side of the road was an empty lot; the other held the smallest inn America had seen in her life. Next to what had to be the most tenacious business still afloat was a gas station with only two pumps. The sidewalks were gravel. It was a switch.

As they crept on, still adjusting from going 80 miles per hour the entire morning to a respectably un-ticket-worthy pace of 35, they drove into what must have been the small town answer to a financial district. The buildings were all done in the same red-brick facade that clearly projected "this was built in the 1950s but we want you to think it's old" with a sort of obviousness that passed artificial and went a little into endearing - the same kind of endearing that an old man on his porch going on with clearly false war stories was. As they moved into the housing, the cookie-cutter conformity of all the homes ended up betraying the town's founding date in the first place.

"So," her non-driving mother said, turning around in her chair to fruitlessly catch America's eye, "there's only one high school in this city. It's a few blocks away from the house; do you want to go walk over while your mom talks to the movers?"

"Oh, is _that_ what I'm doing?" America's other mom said at the same time that America muttered, "not really," more out of laziness and apathy than any of the despondency that her moms clearly read into her tone.

"Come on, it won't be that bad!" Her driving mom said. "It's just one year, then you're off to college."

"Yeah," America said, hoping her tone would convey "you're repeating yourself again" because she certainly wasn't brave enough to sass her mom back any more explicitly than that.

"And this school offers AP Biology this year! I know you wanted to take AP Chemistry, but I think you'll enjoy biological sciences a lot too! Did I ever tell you, I was almost pre-med - your mother ended up being the one to convince me to pursue law school instead."

"Hm, Margaret E. Carter High School. I wonder who Margaret Carter was?" Her other mom butted in, fiddling with the phone GPS to reroute to the high school. Clearly, an executive decision had been made on whether or not America was going to see her new education institution.

"Probably the only moderately successful person to ever come out of this town," her other mom snorted. Elena Chavez was a city girl, through and through, but when her police force wife got the opportunity to be the captain of vice at Arcadia, a coast-side town of maybe four thousand, well, Elena Chavez was also a supportive wife. She beared the move with only slightly more grumbling than her teenage daughter.

"Be nice!" Amalia chided. "Hey, maybe if America does really well, they'll rename the high school after the only _very_ successful person to come out of this town!"

America snorted. "The middle school, maybe."

"Aim high!" Her currently-driving-mom said. "There's a local university around here too - now that's an accomplishment. Have you ever heard of a renamed college?"

America did know about that local university. It was a good 15 minutes away from the town: not particularly well known nationally, but considered very good in the state for its engineering and physics programs. Apparently, a large plurality of the inhabitants of Arcadia were the professors and kids of those professors at the University of Latverion. Exciting.

"So," her non-driving mom said, shuffling with some papers in her purse, "have you seen your schedule for the year yet?"

"I know the classes I'm taking, but not when I'm supposed to show up or where," America said.

"Ah, that's the important part, I'm afraid," her mom said, finally locating a well-folded piece with the distinct look of bureaucracy about it. "Here you go!"

America leaned forward to take it from her mom before she leaned further back in the car and spilled the cold McDonalds coffee in the drink-holder. Unfolding the paper, she took it in before realizing that she had no opinions whatsoever on the information before her.

* * *

_1st Period - AP Biology, _

_ Motherall, Volumnia_

_ Room A-15_

_2nd Period - English,_

_ Ramsey, Douglas_

_ Room M-60_

_3rd Period - Ceramics_

_ Dolly, Nathan_

_ Room S-48_

_4th Period - N/A_

_5th Period - Physics_

_ Templar, Michael_

_ Room V-11_

_6th Period - AP Calculus BC_

_ Patel, Jahaharel_

_ Room T-03_

_7th Period - Economics_

_ Roxxon, Phillip_

_ Room S-22_

"Hm, it looks like you have your free period first thing in the morning on Thursdays. Isn't that nice?"

"When does her school start again?"

"Oh, let me che- It says right on the bell schedule. 7:50."

"Yeah? I read somewhere that schools should be starting at 8:30; it's unhealthy and bad for the kids to start any earlier."

"I think I saw that exact article a few days ago!"

America rolled her eyes and tuned them out.

* * *

MEANWHILE

_ kateBIshop: whose idea was it to have AP Bio be 1st period. sorry to anyone whose taking that class i am never gonna show up on mondays lolll_

_ 10:43 AM, August 26th_

_ novaboy: kateBIshop: babe. babe, cmon. im not doing this alone._

_ 10:44 AM, August 26th_

_ plus5tobling: who let templar teach physics again? smh how do i transfer to ms smith's class_

_10:58 AM, August 26th_

_theRIRIwilliams: plus1tobling just talk to her! Priscilla's super understanding and my lesbian Idol omg_

_10:59 AM, August 26th_

_kateBIshop: theRIRIwilliams what is this referring to teachers by their first name energy_

_10:59 AM, August 26th_

_theRIRIwilliams: kateBIshop you can do what u want when u already got into college_

_11:00 AM, August 26th_

_ alleyned: Is anyone else taking AP Bio? Or AP Latin?_

_ 11:06 AM, August 26th_

_teddylmn: alleyned yes on AP Bio but ur just on ur own fr latin._

_11:19 AM, August 26th_

_tomtomshephard: alleyned latin buddies! this is gonna be so much fun!_

_11:20 AM, August 26th_

_alleyned: tomtomshephard: How do I drop a class._

_11:20 AM, August 26th_

_tomtomshephard: alleyned: :((((((_

_11:21 AM, August 26th_

_ squirrelgirl: sure love how admin thought we were all enjoying our summers too much and had to drop schedules just to remind us we only have 1 week left! did i say love_

_ 11:08 AM, August 26th_

_ kangkang: didn't templar throw a chair at a kid once. why is he allowed._

_ 11:12 AM, August 26th_

_ billykaps: take AP Bio they said. its new and fun they said. YOU'LL BE THE ONLY ONE, THEY TOTALLY FORGOT TO MENTION._

_ 11:17 AM, August 26th_

_tomtomshephard: billykaps lol nerd_

_11:18 AM, August 26th_

_teddylmn: billykaps nah we're in it together and so are kateBIshop and novaboy and alleyned and… wow ur right this class is really small_

_11:20 AM, August 26th_

_plus5tobling: billykaps: i think loki's in this class too_

_11:21 AM, August 26th_

_ kateBIshop: who's the AP Bio teacher anyways? is she new?_

_ 11:24 AM, August 26th_

_alleyned: kateBIshop She's new this year. Volumnia Motherall, transferred from Genosha High School._

_11:25 AM, August 26th_

_ nicominoru: what teacher is advising GSA this year now that Ms. Manh is leaving?_

_ 11:29 AM, August 26th_

_illyrasputin: probably ms smith_

_11:34 AM, August 26th_

_ teddylmn: anyone know if there was summer HW for AP Bio?_

_ 11:32 AM, August 26th_

_novaboy: teddylmn bit late for that, buddy_

_11:35 AM, August 26th_

_billykaps: teddylmn it's on the school website and its pretty short, we can do it together tomorrow_

_11:35 AM, August 26th_

_novaboy: billykaps teddylmn: ooh how romantic, study dating_

_11:37 AM, August 26th_

_billykaps: novaboy we started dating YESTERDAY. how do you already know about this_

_11:38 AM, August 26th_

* * *

Kate flopped back down on her bed, then frowned, squirmed a little, and dug her phone out from underneath her. She lazily pushed the power button, registered that absolutely nothing had changed since she checked 5 minutes ago, and closed her eyes at the same time that the screen faded back to black.

"What time is it?" Noh-varr asked.

"Oh, let me check," Kate said, turning her phone on again. "1:10."

No-varr stretched and then bounced onto the bed beside Kate, jostling her enough to turn her a little on her side facing him. He hummed, turning a little to face Kate, who had let her phone and arms drop down to her chest.

"I should go to practice," he said.

"You should," Kate agreed.

Neither of them moved.

The ceiling fan was puttering away, blending in with the sound of rustling leaves outside as the summer breezes came, teasing autumn weather that wouldn't come in full to central California until October. The heat was dry: a sort of lethargic, syrupy warmth that gave everyone it touched a feeling of always being on the verge of getting sweaty. Outside the window, the blue of the sky was so harsh and pure that nearly everything else lost its color in comparison; the deep, rich gold of the dry grass only ever came out on winter days when the whole sky went silver-lead with cloud cover. Only the green leaves of the black walnuts managed to stand out, aided by the deep bark.

Noh-varr shifted a little, fiddling with his headphones. He had the old-school 90's contraptions, spray-painted silver to look like the past's idea of the future. "Here," he said, "listen to this."

"It's not any of the experimental music, right?" Kate asked suspiciously. He showed her some stuff that sounded more like instruments being tuned than actual being played, and she had to sit through all seven minutes of it because she loved her boyfriend.

"Nah, nah, this one's a classic," he said, flipping around one of the ear cups so Kate could shift up and press her ear against it. "It's _Definition_, by Black Star."

He hit play, and Kate closed her eyes. "Masterdisk? How old is this?"

Noh-varr googled it. "1998."

Kate snorted. "Classic, indeed."

They sat and listened until the fade out. Then, Kate took a deep inhale through her nose and turned to Noh-varr. "You should go to practice," she repeated.

Noh-varr sighed, then propped himself up on his elbows. He was putting it off, not because the weather outside was going strong at 90 degrees - though Kate did think that making anybody run in a California summer had to be an eighth amendment violation of some sort - but because he was in so much trouble with his coach.

"Come on," Kate said. "It'll be a really great year. You'll do amazing this season, you'll get a great GPA this year, and you'll go to a great D1 college."

Noh-varr hummed but didn't move.

"And," Kate said, her tone sharpening, "none of that is going to happen if you skip practice _again_."

When he stayed stationary, Kate shoved him off the bed. The _thunk_ and ensuing groan brought Lucky trotting in to investigate, and Clint called suspiciously from the kitchen: "What's going on in there?"

"Tough love!" Kate yelled back, repeatedly nudging Noh-varr's exposed stomach with her foot, bullying him into getting all the way back up. Their positions had switched - Noh-varr now looking down at Kate, who was lying on her back on the bed - but instead of exacting revenge, he just leaned down, kissed Kate's forehead, and called out a goodbye to Clint as he left out the front door.

* * *

Loki sat in a car outside a prison, wearing a dress, hating his dad, and generally feeling like a homophobe's field day. He wondered if the fact that he technically had two dads was a point for or against him.

His car was parked which meant the longer he waited, the more the air-conditioned cool of the air inside gave way to the thick, oppressive heat that percolated in flatlands. It hadn't gotten bad enough yet to smoke Loki out and into the prison, which housed the greater evil so long as the car stayed below the boiling point.

The prison was an ugly, squat, concrete block rendered in over-sized detail, like most buildings of the type. You could just see the forests that rimmed Arcadia from the outpost, shielding the town from the sight of the criminals in the correctional facility, petty and monstrous alike. Between them stretched farmland, crops planted in lines that stretched out into convergence points. A stand stood roadside of a road that barely deserved to call itself something beyond "dirt path with asphalt," and it advertised organic honey, as well as 3$ strawberries. Loki used to buy those each time he made the trip until Freyja had learned to figure out where he had gone by the empty berry box in the shotgun seat.

Besides, he thought, he was wearing white and knowing his luck, he'd stain his one dress. Loki had had a brief moment of sympathy for all the tall women he knew - it was apparently very difficult to find anything that wouldn't be indecent exposure on someone over six feet. No wonder Amora dressed the way she did. While the dress (which had a pleated A-line skirt, a sash, and little cherry blossoms printed on it) was not exactly his usual style, it made enough of a statement anyways. He just wished that the tight shoulders and sleeves would give him a little more range of motion.

The time on his dashboard blinked at him: 1:34. He had another half hour until he legally could not be processed in, which meant another half hour to stall outside.

He thunked his head on the steering wheel and pulled his keys from the ignition with a groan. Blindly fumbling, he opened up the car door and put a single foot outside, flat on the ground. He left it there, unwilling to put his weight fully on that leg. It was one of those insignificant decisions that only ever gained importance when someone had the time or inclination to stop and think about the broader path that their seemingly small decisions put them on. Loki, whose inclination was closer to procrastination than introspection, knew that if he put his weight onto that leg, he'd have to take a step. If he had to take a step, he had to get out of the car.

And if he got out of the car, he'd have to go talk to Laufey.

Groaning, he pulled himself out of the safety of the car's metal frame and into the hot sun and turned for the first time to face the prison. Not for the first time, he had to wonder why he was even doing any of what he was doing. Thor once told him that he lived to piss people off, which was an edgy Instagram bio if he ever heard one, but if he indulged his inner psychoanalyst, he could probably trace this all back to some desire for attention born out of neglect. Something like that.

To Rodriguez's credit, he was pretty professional about the whole dress situation. As Loki dutifully handed over his driver's license, he asked: "You know the dress code?"

"I'm a high school student; I love dress codes. No skirts ending over two inches above the knees and no exposed collarbones." He grinned. "That would be scandalous.'

Rodriguez didn't react. "You know the drill, Chau will escort you to the visitation room."

"What's up, Elaina?"

Elaina also did not react. That was probably just what she was like in general, though, so he didn't take it to heart. He liked the sound of his own voice enough.

"So, is the whole last name thing an ex-military thing or something? I'll be honest with you, it gives me some British boarding school vibes. I wouldn't actually know though - _Daddy_ keeps threatening to pack me off, but we both know he can't pull the trigger just yet."

Also, it's not like leaving this town and family would be a _punishment_.

"He's at the table at the corner, Mr. Naljarsson."

"Oh, please, Ms. Chau! Mr. Naljarsson is my father, call me Laufeysson."

Sadly, the joke didn't land. Loki watched Chau leave for a bit, resolutely not looking at Laufey and woman enough to admit that it was mostly because he didn't want to see the initial reaction. Finally, at the point where it verged past awkward and straight into "possible sexual harassment," Loki turned on heel and faced his demons head-on.

It was a very dramatic way of putting an aging middle-aged man with some really ugly face tats, but the look on Laufey's face was probably what inspired a good amount of literature on the evils of humanity. It was _ugly_.

"What's up, dad?" Loki kind of wanted to call him "daddy" too, but for once he decided not to push his luck. Just because there'd be consequences for Laufey breaking his face in full view of three guards didn't mean he would care about those consequences.

"You," he hissed, "are a complete, utter, disgusting, _stinking _disappointment."

"Not flaming? I'm a little sad that you missed an opportunity to pun, but mostly shocked with your vocabulary."

Laufey snorted a little, but probably more in disgust than appreciation for Loki's sparkling wit.

"I would assume this is the influence of those Asgardians, but even _that man_ could not make filth like this look good for an election."

"Hey, I know you're old, but it's not the Reagan era anymore. Gay is okay. Get with the program." Loki casually turned his head to the side and broke eye contact. "Or don't. I heard about the fight. Right before your parole review too, huh."

Out of the corner of Loki's eye, he saw Laufey's eyes narrow and his fists clench. Despite an entire table between them and several guards watching, Loki still made an aborted, instinctual motion to throw up his forearms over his face and duck down. Laufey smirked.

Anger suddenly sparked in Loki's chest and caught like fire on dry wood, reducing anything approaching good sense to ash. He felt hot everywhere except the tips of his ears, before everything suddenly went cold - like he'd just jumped into a pool feet first - and he found himself talking.

"So really, it doesn't matter what you think about me or what I do. I can tell the world you're my dad and you raised a gay son who liked poetry and dancing and Aesir and the color pink and you will never be able to do shit about it, because you're stuck here, without even a hope of getting out before you die. What's your sentence, huh? Another 30 years? You really think you have another 30 years in you?"

"Boy, you think you can do whatever you want without thinking about me? You're my son, and the only thing anyone will ever think of you is that you are my son - Laufey's son. You're a disappointment to Jotunn everywhere."

"Oh, because you're such a prime example of Jotnar, huh? You're a _stereotype_. Some small-town drug dealer -"

"I at least will be infamous. I was known. You will never be anything but my son."

Loki's mouth worked for a bit, before quietly saying, "Yesterday, I was your daughter. That's what I came here to say."

Laufey snorted, and Loki could see the beginnings of another rant building in him. He cut him off because frankly, there was no way that wasn't going to be cliche as hell, and stood up, reveling in the rush of power that came with being the one to dictate when a conversation ended.

"You still get newspapers in here, right? You better keep an eye. Someday, you'll just be my father. Don't worry, I'll make sure you get a footnote on the Wikipedia page."

* * *

a/n: This is my stupid high school au that went out of fashion seven years ago. Everyone who went through the 2012 MCU Avengers HS!AUs era, feel free to scream along with me and the war flashbacks induced by the phrase "Russian transfer student".

For the non-Americans in the audience (are there any? or are comics Too American), AP stands for "Advanced Placement". It's essentially a first year college class taught to high schoolers. At the end of the course, everyone takes a standardised exam that scores you out of 5. While scores of 1 or 2 are failures for any college, depending on your score and the school you apply to, certain scores can qualify you to skip that course in college.


End file.
